Akron, Ohio, April 3, 1854.
Dear Son John, — We
received your letter of the 24th March two or three days since, and one from
Henry, dated 25th March, about the same time. They had got on well so far, but
had to go by stage the balance of the way. Father got home well, and was with
us over night Friday last. We have all been middling well of late, but very
busy, having had the care of the whole concern at Mr. Perkins's place until
Friday night. I had a most comfortable time settling last year's business, and
dividing with Mr. Perkins, and have to say of his dealing with me that he has
shown himself to be every inch a gentleman. I bring to my new home five of the
red cows and ten calves; he to have $100 out of my share of the last year's
wool, to make us even on last year's business; after dividing all crops, he
paying me in hand $28.55, balance due me on all except four of the five cows. I
am going now to work with a cheap team of two yoke oxen, on which I am
indebted, till I can sell my wool, $89; $46 I have paid towards them. I would
like to have all my children settle within a few miles of each other and of me,
but I cannot take the responsibility of advising you to make any forced move
to change your location. Thousands have to regret that they did not let
middling “well alone.” I should think you ought to get for your place another
$125; and I think you may, if you are not too anxious. That would buy you
considerable of a farm in Essex or elsewhere, and we may get the Homestead Law
passed yet. It has been a question with me whether you would not do better to
hire all your team work done than to have your little place overstocked
possibly, after some trouble about buying them, paying taxes, insurance, and
some expense for implements to use them with. If you get a little overstocked,
everything will seem to do poorly. Frederick is very much better, but both he
and Owen have been having the ague lately. They leave the Hill farm soon. I do
not at this moment know of a good opening for you this way. One thing I do not
fear to advise and even urge; and that is the habitual “fear of the Lord, which
is the beginning of wisdom.” Commending you all to his mercy, I remain
Your affectionate father,
John Brown.
SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and
Letters of John Brown, p. 157
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